Home
by mischa2
Summary: (AU) Max has been searching her whole life for a place to call home- a place to belong. Has she finally found it? M/L


**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own nothin'.

**Rating: R**

Summary: (AU) Max has been searching her whole life for a place to belong- to call home. Has she finally found it? M/L.

**Author's Note:** This chapter doesn't contain as much dialogue as will others. I'm just setting stuff up. Also, I didn't feel like dealing with the whole Manticore/virus/breeding cult thing- too much research, so I wrote an AU, though their characteristics still remain.  
Hey, I almost forgot. Go e-mail, snail mail or call those idiots at FOX and get our show back!

  
  
  
Max Guevara sat on the side of her bed, counting her meager stash of cash. She flopped onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling in quiet despair.

It was getting dark. One set of people were in the act of shutting themselves in behind closed doors while others were coming to life. And while the night called to some, there was nothing within it that called to Max. She'd seen it all and committed a few more sins than she liked to admit, but turning tricks had never been an option.

She closed her eyes and rolled on her side, then took a deep breath, making her mind relax.

Max had been running all her life and was afraid to stop. If she did, the devastation of her life might have overwhelmed her. Orphaned at birth, she had run from one foster home to another. Never staying in one place for long. At the age of twenty, she was still looking for a place to call home.

Her gaze roamed around the room. There was a couch bought at a yard sale, a bed and dresser that didn't match and a table and three chairs she'd inherited from the previous residents of the apartment. Her entire wardrobe would fit in one small closet. She didn't own a car, she didn't have any money and she didn't know where she was going, but it was time to move on.

She clenched her jaw, picked up the sign she made and walked outside. With a grunt she stuck it in the lawn near the curb. Moving Sale- Apartment Four.

By six o'clock, she was sitting on the floor of an empty apartment and counting her money. Almost one hundred dollars, all she had to begin a new life. She stuffed the money in her back pocket and closed her eyes.

"Show me the way," she whispered. All I want is a home."

That night she slept on the floor, and by daylight she was gone. Max was doing what she knew how to do best- putting the past behind and moving on.

++++++++++++

  
Max was tired from the inside out. She'd been on the road for more than two days. It had been awhile since she'd done anything as stupid as hitchhiking, but so far she hadn't had any problems with the rides. She glanced at the small sign near the restaurant door. Bus Stop. Lord, what she wouldn't give for the money to travel in style. Not that bus travel was all that stylish, but from the backseat of a stranger's van, it was looking better all the time.

She rubbed her palm over the outside of her duffel bag, imagining she could feel the small stash of cash hidden in the bottom. Her feet ached and her forehead felt hot. She hoped she wasn't coming down with something. She couldn't be sick. Not like this. Not without a place to call home.

A blast of cool air hit her as she entered the restaurant and paused in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust in the dim interior. It didn't take long to see she'd have to wait. There wasn't a seat available. With a sigh she headed for the ladies' room to freshen up. Maybe when she got back, some of the places would have cleared.

Max leaned toward the mirror over the sink and stared at her reflection. Her scalp itched, and her skin was sticky with sweat and the dust of the road. She closed her eyes and let her chin drop towards her chest in disgust. She felt dirty from the inside out. All she wanted was a place to belong, and here she was at twenty, on the road and still looking for rainbows.

She turned on the water letting it run hard between her fingers before leaning down and sluicing the dust from her face. She turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again, and this time almost didn't recognize herself.

With water dripping from her eyes and face, she looked as if she'd been crying. It was a foreign thought. Max Guevara didn't cry. Not anymore. The lack of expression on her face was frightening.

"God," she muttered. "Where have I gone?"

Then she shrugged off the thought and dried her face. There was no room in her life for regrets. Her stomach growled as she picked up her bag. Her feet were dragging as she walked into the restaurant. She found a seat and was soon immersed in reading the menu.

++++++++++++

In spite of the fact that the trucker Max had accepted a ride from was well over six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds, she felt safe. Someone once told her the best way to judge character was to look in a person's eyes. When she'd looked at the trucker's face she'd seen a friendly smile and warm brown eyes twinkling at her as he offered her a hand up in the cab.

"Where you headin' missy?" the trucker had asked.

"Where you goin'?" Max countered.

"North," the trucker said.

"That'll do."

He laughed, and when Max slammed the door shut, he began shifting the gears.

"I'm headin' just south of Seattle," the trucker said. "Do you want to go that far?"

Max blinked. Getting lost in a city that size wasn't what she had in mind, especially when she was trying to find herself, but what the hell? "Yeah, that's fine."

On the outskirts of the city, he pulled over. He pointed across her line of vision. "See that highway off to your right?"

She turned and looked. 

"Stay on that and it will take you straight into Seattle."

Max grabbed her bag and paused at the open door. "Thanks."

The trucker's gaze quickly swept over the young woman, eyeing her feminine curves and old clothes. He knew what hard up looked like. He also knew what it felt like. Times were tough since the pulse. His conscience kicked in as she began climbing down from the cab. "Hey, missy."

Max looked up.

"Hitchhiking's a dangerous business."

She shrugged. "It's also cheap."

He laughed. "There's that, all right. Well then, take care of yourself."

Max watched until he was no longer in sight, then began making her way across the median to the other side of the highway. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see she'd been riding with the man for almost two hours and never asked his name. She looked down the highway and started walking. 

++++++++++++

Logan looked through the dirty windshield to the darkening sky and frowned. "I was hoping we'd beat the rain."

Safely buckled into the restraints of a child's car seat, Brittany gave the darkening sky and the sudden downpour a minimal glance. She was too concerned with the free toy in the fast-food lunch her uncle had just bought her.

"What did you get?" Logan asked her.

"Ariel!" she exclaimed, holding it up for him to see.

He frowned. "Who's Ariel?"

Brittany looked up in pure disgust. "Uncle Logan, don't you know anything?"

He grinned. "Obviously not."

"The Little Mermaid, remember?"

Recognition dawned. "Oh yeah, that Ariel."

Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Hey, you," Logan teased. "Give me a french fry and quit being so smart."

Brittany giggled, leaning forward she handed him two. "One for your mouth and one for your hand," she explained.

Logan was licking the salt from the ends of his fingers when he realized the dark shape he'd been seeing in the distance was a hitchhiker. "Hell of a day for a walk." he muttered.

Logan continued to watch the hitchhiker as they drew closer. He hunched his shoulders against the downpour and ducked his head against the blast of the wind. He was almost upon him when he realized that the him was a her. Her clothes were plastered to her like wet tissue paper. She didn't have a spare ounce of fat on her body. A fleeting notion of picking her up came and went, he thought of Brittany. He moved into the left-lane to keep from splashing her as he passed.

Brittany, having gotten out of her car seat, was on her knees in the seat, looking through the back window. "Uncle Logan, she's getting so wet."

The Aztec coasted as he looked in the rearview mirror. Logan frowned. "I'm sorry sweetie, but it's not safe to pick up strangers."

Logan, looking back towards Brittany, stopped the car. "Hey, you need to get back in your car seat."

He cursed under his breath. The hitchhiker would probably take the red glow of brake lights as a signal. He looked in the rearview mirror again. Sure enough, she was jogging toward them.

"Shit." he muttered. 

The door suddenly opened.

"Where are you heading?" Logan asked, and before she could answer, a gust of wind blew a sheet of rain in the door. Brittany squealed and then laughed.

Logan cursed and starting waving his hand. "Get in, just get in!" he yelled. "We'll deal with destinations later."

The woman ducked her head and jumped inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Suddenly there was nothing but quiet. Engulfed by the scent of hamburgers and french fries, they sat in mutual silence, each digesting a sudden change in circumstance.

She was soaking wet and minus any makeup, yet she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Brittany smiled at the young woman and handed her the napkin from her lunch. "You can dry off."

Max smiled as she accepted the offer. "Thank You. What's your name?" 

"Brittany."

Logan watched the woman make a futile attempt to dry off with the small piece of paper. He reached under his seat and pulled out a handful of clean paper towels he kept for emergencies. "Here try these."

"Thanks," she said, and winked at Brittney, who was watching her every move in rapt fascination.

"What's your name?" Brittany asked.

Max smiled. "Max. Max Guevara."

**AN:** Tell me what you think. I haven't decided yet if Logan's in the chair. I'm leaning towards it though.

  
  



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